


To Play The Gods

by covacola



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Abduction, M/M, Mild Medical Warnings / Description Of Injections, Mildly Graphic Description of Violence and Physical/Psychological Torture, Needles, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Psychological Horror, Regis Being Supportive Of His Gay Son And His Boyfriends, Starvation, Tags Contain Spoilers, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:15:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26408587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/covacola/pseuds/covacola
Summary: Noctis and Prompto have just graduated. During their senior year's stressful finals, Noctis finally confessed to his crushes. Noctis asks Regis if he can spend his first summer out of school with his new boyfriends, and to his surprise, he agrees.But all of that is thrown out the window as, on the day of their departure, they are attacked. Noctis is abducted and the Citadel turns itself inside out trying to find any possible leads.Ratings/tags will update as necessary.
Relationships: Gladiolus Amicitia/Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me?? Starting yet another fic which will likely end up being hella long???? Yeah. I'm sorry.
> 
> I'll just say it now, prologue is misleading fluffy

Of all the things to finally cause Noctis to confess his crushes, not in his wildest dreams did he think this exhausting song and dance could have been ended by, of all things, stressing over finals.

He and Prompto had only just mutually confessed-- to liking each other, also liking both Ignis and Gladio, and wondering if a polyamorous relationship could work-- like, a couple days ago. He'd thought, having gotten through the nervous breakdown that was junior year, he'd have seen the worst of it. But no, the nerves had come back with a vengeance. He'd finally been on the verge to give up on studying for his latin final-- what was even the point of learning latin, of all languages. But Ignis, on behalf of the Citadel tutors who should have been assisting Noct in his studies, had insisted. He'd fallen into a slump, stress curdling into apathy, when something between him and Prom had slipped.

Then, after somehow scraping by that final, he'd then had to move right along with all of his other classes. Luckily, Prom had been right there with him to wade through the mess. And was still with him now. He really should have felt worse for dragging him into this, er, awkward situation. But Prom gave a nervous shrug as a show of support and to encourage him on. Might as well, right?

In a fit of near hysteria, Gladio had told him to calm the hell down. To which he responded, quite reasonably, in a garbled rant about how no he would not calm down. Which, also reasonably, jumped into how much Noctis hated the school system. Which began to deteriorate with barely coherent lines of thought about how this should have been fixed, how he'd like to fix it, the issues with those fixes, eventually spiralling into guilt that he should be able to do and handle more, as per his station. At that point, Gladio had tried again, more subdued, and asked if there was anything he could do to calm Noct down.

To which he'd stupidly, and automatically joked, "you could fuckin' kiss me."

All things considered, he should have guessed this wasn't the worst way things had gone. They'd talked, really talked. And somehow they'd worked everything out and, in the end, Noctis did indeed get a kiss from Gladio. And Iggy. And Prom. A lot of kissing happened that night, actually.

So as it was, a week later, sitting back in the apartment that they lounged, tangled together haphazardly on the couch, that they watched their high school graduation ceremony. Noctis had for once decided to forego doing things like a normal kid and didn't walk. He'd also gotten Prompto excused from the ceremony, too, which was nice. They joked about how much their classmates were probably sweating in the summer heat, despite the gymnasium air conditioning, in their gowns and caps. 

Ignis checked his watch. "It'll probably be over soon. We should be on our way if we want to avoid traffic." Noct felt his stomach lurch. 

He was set to have dinner with his father that evening in honor of Noct actually finishing high school. But more than that, he planned on doing something bold.

He hummed, noncommittal, causing Gladio to chuckle, rubbing a thumb over his thigh, propped up over Gladio's lap. "Oh come on, it'll be fine."

He hummed again, and Ignis ran his fingers through Noct's hair, his head laying on Iggy's leg. He pouted as Ignis got up, then groaned in annoyance as Gladio padded his leg, encouraging him to get up. Noct squirmed farther from the bigger man, looping his arms around Prompto, who'd been sitting on Iggy's other side. He was warm where he'd been leaning into Iggy. "I don't wanna," he half-heartedly complained, muffled against Prom's side. 

Eventually, they managed to pry him away from the blonde. And so it was that he was sitting in a fine suit at the fine table in the fine dining hall at the Citadel. The space felt too large under normal circumstances. High vaulted ceilings, the stark contrast of blacks and whites along every surface. Noctis could barely bring himself to eat. 

"Noctis, is there something you'd like to tell me?" The King asked.

No, Noct thought. His voice had been strong, but his tone was warmer, more calming. Noct wouldn't say that it was rare for Regis to speak to him that way, but it was usually reserved for when they were alone. Or at least with only Clarus around to hear. Not with Regis's usual full retinue of guards, and not even as much when Ignis and Gladio stood in attendance as well, taking their proper places as Advisor and Shield.

It soothed him, emboldened him. He smiled. Part of it was simply slipping on the mask, but not all. "Actually, tes, your Highness." Regis ever so subtly raised an eyebrow. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Clarus eye the King, Noct, then his son in quick succession. Gladio gave very little hint, but both his father and he could tell he'd tensed just slightly. "I was going to wait until we'd finished our meal," the words rolled off his tongue easily enough. He didn't like playing the part, but that didn't mean he wasn't good at it. "But, well," he let himself slip a little, grimacing just slightly, "I should know I can't hide my nerves from you." Had it been anyone else, Regis might have been annoyed with the prattling, but the slightest quirk of his lip made it clear he was entertained by Noct's unusual theatrics. That was good. Maybe-- "I wanted to request to take a short leave from the city." His heart was in his throat, eyes searching for any sort of reaction from his father. "Take a trip outside of Insomnia-- with my retinue of course." He hated using that word. Regis knew it too. 

With the slightest gesture, the nearest servants quickly turned and began to file out, Ignis and Gladio, as per procedure, going with them, leaving only himself, his dad, and Clarus. Noctis counted to three after the doors shut, let out a slight breath. Now for the hard sell. He prepped all the assurances and justifications to the forefront of his mind, scrambling a bit on where to begin.

"So you want to take a trip with your friends?" Regis inquired. Or rather, asked. His tone had shifted further from the King speaking to the young Prince. Noct's chest eased.

"Yeah," he replied with a sigh, but corrected himself, "erm, I mean, uh, yes--"

"I take it Prompto will be accompanying you as well?"

"Yes, or, I mean, I'd like-- um," his face suddenly burned. He felt so stupid. Which, granted, was a common enough reaction when faced with the weight of regal dignity Regis carried about him. But Six, he wasn't talking to the King he was talked to his dad. 

"Very well," Regis said simply, then continued to eat his meal. 

Noctis blinked. "Wait, what?"

Regis smiled slyly. "Did you think I'd refuse? My eighteen year old son wants to travel with his friends, much like we did in our youth," he smiled to Clarus, who, for a wonder, was smiling back with an almost wistful expression. "We figured it was about that time," Regis said.

Clarus covered a snort. With another quick, subtle gesture, Regis made it clear this was very much an informal interaction, giving him leave to speak freely. Which he did. "I'm surprised it took this long," he waved a hand toward Regis, "your father had been itching for a real summer vacation by the time he was sixteen."

"And with how your son so enjoys sleeping under the stars," Clarus laughed at Regis's comment, making Noctis distinctly feel he was missing something between them, "I'm surprised he hasn't insisted on it sooner."

Noctis was incredulous. How many years had it been since he'd seen his dad so at ease around him. He grinned broadly. This was the dad he missed. He was proud of and loyal to the King, but this? It'd been a long time since Regis had been this to him.

"However," Regis said more pointedly, and Noct felt the warmth evaporate into mist, "I would like to ask again, Noctis," the use of his name, the way Regis said it, assured him that now, more than perhaps ever, he was speaking as his dad, "is there anything you wish to tell me?"

Noctis stiffened. No. No no no there-- okay well there was something he should say, but he didn't want to. 

Still. The way Regis was looking at him. The warm, almost knowing smile. The kind smile. His dad's smile.

"Um, yeah," Noct found himself saying. But he hesitated again. 

Regis seemed to understand. "Clarus, if you could give me a minute with my son." The King's Shield nodded, then made his leave. 

Noct spared a thought to how confused Gladio in particular would be when his dad stepped out too. But it was short lived compared to his growing anxiety. Was he... Was he really gonna...?

"Noctis?" His father asked gently. On reflex, Noct looked up. Looked into his dad's warm, comforting expression. And all at once he knew. Regis would have no qualms with accepting his son as he was.

"Dad, I'm gay."

* * *

Noctis's voice was a bit muffled from the Regalia's bluetooth, but it did nothing to stifle the excitement Prompto heard through his earphones.  _ "We're going on vacation!" _


	2. Chapter 2

It'd taken another week of preparation. It had been decided that the Prince should tour Lucis and perhaps, if all went well, then go on to visit each of the other kingdoms. Despite this, they'd already been flooded with various dignitaries of other nations, graciously extending their hospitality. A course had been plotted out and, hypothetically, they could spend as much as the next year outside the crown city. It was a daunting, exciting prospect. 

The Regalia was packed, parked in the loading zone just in front of Gladio's apartment building. All that was left was to pick up Prompto and figure out how to stuff all his things in too, and they'd be off. They'd be off. It was an odd feeling.

And so Noctis felt, belatedly, that he should have expected something to go wrong. The shot came out of nowhere, nothing but a slight fwip through the air as warning. And suddenly, Gladio was down. Gladio was down??? Noctis panicked, but Ignis grabbed him, all but throwing him into the driver seat and tossing him the keys, the frantic look in his eyes more clear than words. Go. But Noctis was too shocked. Gladio was struggling to get his bearings, wobbly as he got back up on his knee. Something fell from him, dislodged. A dart. Likely packed with some serious sedatives. Ignis swore, trying to figure out where it had come from. 

Noctis saw a shadow of movement out of the corner of his eye. He didn't stop to think. He summoned the arminger, uncomfortably bulky in the confines of the car-- but the seat had been set back to accommodate Ignis, not him-- and warped. It all happened in an eye blink. He cut through the man rounding the car, just as he lunged to grab Ignis, a damp cloth in his gloved hand. "No!" Noct yelled, snapping both Ignis and Gladio to attention. Ignis summoned his own dagger, Gladio his broadsword, though he had to use it to shakily stand. 

It didn't work, Gladio dropped back down to one knee, blinking rapidly. Noctis felt the panic rising further. And then, dammit, another warning fwip. Noct turned, knowing he was too slow to dodge the dart. But it missed him. It hadn't been aimed for him. Ignis cursed again, more loudly, sounding more frantic himself as Gladio let out a groan, toppling over completely. Noctis fought to urge to scream, fought back tears as Gladio's head hit concrete. Watching his broadsword disappear into light was perhaps the most terrifying Noctis had ever seen. 

But he didn't have time to think about it. This had all been seconds. He was still grappling with the man who'd attempted to take out Iggy. A the arm with the tag came up toward his face, and Noctis didn't hesitate to react. He redirected the sword in his hand. It had only meant to send him toward the assailant, but no longer. Magic steel bit deep into the man's side, spattering blood across him, Ignis, and Noct himself. Noct had seen blood before, but this? This was different. He knew from the feeling through the blade this was different. The resistance in it, or something. His muddled mind thought he must've hit the man's spine, having aimed too low to be caught by the rib cage. Whatever it was, he somehow just knew. This man was dead. He was t lip yet, but be would be. Why did that affect him so much?

His hesitation was properly punished. Another dart-- this time he saw the direction. But it didn't matter. It caught Ignis right in the neck. Ignis quickly yanked it out, blood dripping. Noctis got a good look. The injecting needle was long. Too long. Panic threatened to grasp him yet again, but he shoved it to the side, desperate to get to Ignis. All three of them had a somewhat built up immunity to these sorts of things. But Gladio was both bigger and had gone farther with this training than Ignis had it seemed. He choked out a quiet, strained, "no," before sinking to his knees.

Everything, everything in Noctis screamed to go to him, to help. But he didn't. He hated every fiber in his being for it, but he knew what he had to do. He ducked dashed for the car. It was just out of arm's reach. They hadn't been far when they'd been attacked. He closed the door, not needing the think about locking it. But then he floundered. The keys. Where were the keys? He just had to get back to the Citadel. He prayed hard that Iggy and Gladio would be safe, but he had to get out of there and get help. But where were the godsdamned keys?! They must've been dropped when he warped out. Shit. 

With growing horror, he craned his neck to see if they'd dropped out of the car. This gave him a good view outside the vehicle. Or rather, a good enough view to see a group of three people-- in baggy, body concealing, black clothes, features hidden in ski masks and goggles-- rapidly approaching. Even in his moment of sight before he turned back to continue frantically searching for the keys, he'd seen it. A spike to break the window. 

As he shifted his hips, though, he felt something press into his backside. Idiot! You're phone! Call for help! He grabbed his phone, dialling the emergency number. But it was too late. The glass crashed behind him. He grabbed the car door, flinging it open in an attempt to throw some of them off, but also to give himself an opening to warp away. It worked. It knocked the one with the spike and one other too close away, the third scrambling back and nearly tripping on the curb. Noctis gritted his teeth, tears finally streaming down his face as he heard the emergency line pick up. "--- what's you're emergency?--"

He quickly barked out the addresses, loud enough for his phone, left on regular mode rather than speaker because of course he hadn't been fast enough to do that much. "Abduction attempt! Two people injured--" but that was all he could manage. He summoned the arminger, but in the heartbeat between the summoning and tossing it away to warp, a hand had gone through the broken window, jamming something into Noctis's neck. The arminger flung away from him, and before the toxin could begin to pulse through him, he warped. The dart dropped, but it wasn't enough. He hadn't thrown the arminger far enough. He was barely a yard away. But he yelled, trying again. But his head was quickly fuzzing, like a blanket being thrown over him. Or, not a blanket. A net of some sort. His vision was obscured. He struggled, but another dart was jammed into the material covering him. This time, it hit his thigh. He felt himself slow, felt himself losing the struggle. Tears streamed from his eyes, terror and adrenaline fighting tooth and nail to keep him lucid.

It lost. He fell into unconsciousness.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mild medical warnings for this chapter.

When Noctis awakes, he has the sense to remain limp, keep his breathing slow. His mind was still muddled. The memories began to click into place, and his breath unintentionally hitched as he remembered. Gladio, struggling to get to his feet, powerless. Ignis, struggling to get him away to safety, powerless. Himself, trying to go for help. Powerless.

A distant murmur of voices let him know he was discovered. His eyes snapped open, but he had a hard time focusing on his surroundings. He extended his arm, summoning the arminger. But it was slow. So, so terribly slow. Or was that his mind? He felt something snag, and as he was pushed back down, restrained-- be barely felt it through the haze-- he saw... Tubes? Tubes in his arms. A dark, dark liquid bleeding through them like veins. Was it blood? Was it his blood? Six, he was so dizzy, so tired. But the arminger was in his hand. He held tight to it. He could tell they were trying to take it from him. Could tell they were trying to restrain him.

He gasped, the world slowly falling back into place. He was moving. The irregular bumps and shifting of his vision-- it wasn't just that it was swimming. Many a groggy wake up from naps in the Regalia told him he was in a vehicle. He lifted himself, straining against the hands on him. It all felt like a blur. He swung his head around, feeling sick from the vertigo, but he saw it. He dropped the arminger, warping awkwardly. His stomach wasn't going to last like this. But he was out of their grasps-- he only needed a moment. He reached for the door. He had a hand on it. They grabbed him. He clumsily maneuvered the arminger again, warping out from the grips of those grasping hands. It didn't work as well this time. They grabbed his arm and he fell, feeling limp. He distinctly felt the discomfort of another needle in his arm, felt it tingle and ache just a bit, uncomfortable. He didn't have the mind to fight. He fell back into darkness. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More medical warnings, mildly graphic description of medical bullshit.

Light burned red through Noctis's eyelids, and his first waking thought was an annoyed,  _ how did this not wake me up before now? _

The memories came back more quickly this time. He tried to bolt upright, but found he couldn't. Restrained at the wrists, across his chest, his stomach, thighs and then bound ankles. They  _ really _ meant to keep him in place. 

A cry of alarm made him focus what little sight he had. He blinked rapidly, trying to force himself to adjust to the spotlight. He couldn't see much. A figure. No, two. One braced to push him back down-- but he couldn't  _ go _ anywhere-- or--

Mostly on instinct, he summoned the armiger again. He dropped it immediately, warping out of his restraints. His eyes finally began to adjust. 

A small medical room. Sterile, painfully bright. He'd been tied to a bed, and his arm ached especially bad. He looked down to see a small trickle of blood from his elbow. He barely processed that they must have been drawing blood when the more pressing matter slammed into his consciousness. He'd warped the wrong way, away from the door. He raised the weapon, ready to defend himself, already bracing himself for whatever lay beyond the door. Then, one if the figures lifted a hand. Noct felt his eyes widen in fear. At first, he'd mistaken it for a small firearm, but as they loaded something into it, he realized it was a dart gun. 

He also realized why he couldn't make much out of the two. There simply  _ wasn't.  _ They wore big hazmat like suits. But in place of a clear face covering was a presumably one way covering connected seamlessly into a mouthpiece that looked almost like some sort of speaker. Breathing heavily, he didn't wait to  _ defend himself.  _ He aimed the armiger, throwing it just to the side of the armed one. He warped, grabbing the sword downward at them. 

But they'd been waiting for it. As they rolled out of the way, Noct heard the click and rush of air. He'd left his neck exposed.  _ Again _ he hadn't been smart enough, fast enough. 

He dropped, armiger clattering loudly.

His vision began to go dark. Snarling in frustration, too upset to even register he should have been afraid, Noct's eyes glittered closed. His breathing grew labored, and he felt his mind beginning to drift away.

  
  


And then he felt hands on him. For once, he was glad he was too sluggish to tense. He was haphazardly set back on the table. He felt the needle-- this time in his other arm-- placed much more intensely than he thought he could. 

And then his breathing began to even out. His lucidity slowly returning. He didn't think too much on it. Was too stunned to do anything but follow his instincts. He waited until the restraints were being replaced. His wrists and arms, his torso, and as they were securing his legs, he summoned the armiger again, warping once quickly to get free, then again, also close ranged. 

His stomach lurched, his sense of balance was all but non-existent, but he nonetheless hit his mark-- square into the dart wielder's back. He yanked the armiger out, ready to strike again, but his mind came back, taking the form of Ignis's voice.  _ Go.  _

He warped to the door, slamming it open. He scrunched up his shoulders awkwardly, anticipating more darts or something. A group of four guards jumped in surprise. Though wary, Noctis smiled. The adrenaline was doing wonders for his recovery. Whatever this poison was-- and he should have seen it sooner, what with how Gladio had resisted-- he'd practiced developing a resistance to it before, apparently. But that aside, this was a  _ fight _ . And so long as he kept eyes and ears out for more darts, he could  _ fight. _

He warped again, striking one guard-- all of which were also in hazmat suits as well. They went down with a grunt. He swiped sideways at another, clipping them, but not permanently downing them. He warped away. He wasn't here to take them all out. Just escape.

He busted through another set of double doors. This place felt like a hospital. Wide open coordiors, both well and yet unsettlingly lit. More people in suits. He warped passed them to the next door. In the next section, he had to down all three who had tried to stop him. One section after another. Just hoping.  _ Hoping.  _ An exit, a window even.  _ Anything.  _

If it were a prayer, the Gods either didn't answer or were powerless to help him here.

He didn't know how long he resisted, but he was exhausted. He got to a door that wouldn't budge. Made of heavy metal, he couldn't cut through it. Swearing, he spun to fight his way back. 

Several of them rushed him all at once, and while he managed to fuck up a good handful of them, he couldn't fight over twenty people in the confines of a hallway, even a large one. They grabbed his arms, kept hold of the armiger, and in one lucky second, jabbed not one, but at least three different syringes. He felt the contents bubble under his skin. The shock of it more than anything stunned him at first. But eventually, he did fall unconscious. 

* * *

When he awoke again, he was in darkness. Be blinked a few times. Waited, tense. His eyes didn't adjust. Not a peep or trickle of light from anywhere.  _ Total darkness. _ He tried not to let his breathing pick up. Panic wouldn't help him. 

They hadn't simply tried to keep him under again. He was slumped, held up by the wrists in manacles, after a fashion. On top of holding his wrists, his fingers had been placed in specific guards as well, draping his hand over a round shape, fitting his palm. With a jolt, he realized what they'd done. He wouldn't be able to properly summon the armiger. 

He tested it. There was a brief flash of holy light as the sword materialized, but it did so in his palm. His hand covered as it was, he couldn't make contact with it. 

It clattered to the ground, uselessly. He strained, summoning it again, trying to connect to it on that higher level he did when he warped. But, apparently, he had to at least momentarily hold the thing. It clattered to the floor again, the sound echoing the horror in his chest.

An unseen door suddenly opened with the scraping sound of metal. The harsh light flash blinding him. He couldn't make anything out before the door closed again. 

Heart pounding, he strained his ears. He thought he faintly heard someone else breathing. Then, a rustling of heavy material. A hazmat, he assumed. Then, something pushed against his lips. He jerked back on reflex.

"Food," a heavily filtered voice said. It was augmented. He couldn't make anything identifying out. He swallowed hard, his stomach growling. How long had it been since he'd last eaten? Reluctantly, he figured if they'd wanted him dead, they would have killed him already. So, he opened his mouth. A plastic tube thing was set on his tongue, a weird paste pushing out of it. After a measured portion was placed, the tube was pulled back. He closed his mouth, forcing it down. It tasted like mushed grain. He supposed it was a simple nutrient paste. To say it was disgusting would have been a lie, as that would imply that it had a taste at all. It didn't. He swallowed, and the process was repeated thrice more. Then, he heard another shuffling.

He desperately wanted to demand to know what they were doing, but he withheld, the fear finally blossoming like a bloodstain from his stomach. The tube was pressed again to his lips, and, unprompted, "water." Noct swallowed, then opened his mouth. He realized it was a smaller tube, and he was meant to simple drink as the overly purified water flowed lazily through. After a few extended seconds, the water stopped and the pipe was pulled.

Then, without another word, they moved to the door, opened it, flash blinding him again, and left. 

In the darkness, Noctis felt his panic rise. He succumbed to it, letting it run its course. He definitely wasn't going anywhere, better to get it out of his system than suppress it. Maybe it would give him a clearer head to figure out how the hell he was going to get out of this later. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just realized that you can tell I started writing this after rereading another fic, Little Closer, Close Enough by surveycorpsjean and spoilers ish for that bc y'all should absolutely go read that it's way better thab this garbage, bur this feels like the antithesis to that fic. Noct gets his vacation but we still have the ot4, at least preparing to go on vacation together, and supportive regis so -shrug-


	5. Chapter 5

Ignis stepped out of the interrogation room to find Gladio pacing. He'd rarely seen him like this. Jaw set, eyes almost wide, breathing shallow. He watched him forcibly try to relax, try to give him a wan smile. He couldn't do it. Ignis didn't even try. "I've gotten the investigators to agree to give me copies of the reports," he began wearily, "and we'll be the first to know of any and all develop--" 

Gladio took a lunging step, but then stopped himself. He worked his mouth, seeming to need to work moisture in before be could speak. "I..." He didn't need to say anything else.

Ignis nodded down the hall, and with a heavy, hitched breath, Gladio followed. He was a wreck. One of them had to be. Only one of them could go through the motions of shock right now. And Gladio had woken first. Ignis took the first turn to be the crutch. The one who would lead and get things done while the other lost his fucking mind for a while. Likely, in a few hours, they'd switch. But not while others were around. Ignis imagined that once they had actual privacy, he'd probably fall to pieces, Gladio gathering himself to comfort Ignis and take his turn as the stable one.

They slipped into an unused room. Ignis didn't even bother taking in what the room was usually used for. But it had chairs, so Gladio sat heavily, hands together, fingers woven, and pressed the joined fists to his forehead. Ignis watched a moment, then closed the short distance, a hand on his shoulder, "breathe, love."

Gladio inhaled so sharply, Ignis initially mistook it for a sob. It might have been, but he could still see Gladio's eyes. Wide. Haunted. They had failed to keep Noct safe. Ignis shut his eyes, as if he could ward off emotions like blinding light, and turned away. 

* * *

They left the room some time later, somber as they walked back into the wider, grander halls of the Citadel. They had been instructed to stay while the investigation was ongoing both so they could be looked after and to be on call if any news should arise. 

Ignis had, characteristically, opted to throw himself directly into his work and intended to head back to assist the investigators. Gladio had decided to go as well, though he still seemed deeply entrenched in his shock. 

* * *

Ignis awoke suddenly, his senses flared, adrenaline rushing through his veins. One thought screamed above any true sense of awareness. Noct. Protect Noct. A firm hand at his shoulder made him jump. 

Gladio, his mouth open as if to say something, apologize maybe. But he couldn't seem to get the words out. Among the torrent of emotions, one thing did stand out to Ignis, and it made his blood run cold. Gladio looked pained. Before he could ask, though, Gladio croaked out, "C'mon Specs, they think they got a lead." But his face looked grim, taught, frustrated even. 

"What?" Ignis's patience was frayed, and if he had to break around someone, best it be Gladio. 

Gladio seemed to struggle for a minute, pressing his lips to a fine line. "The trip was kept under tight wraps, right?" 

Ignis shrugged, still in his slip of composure, "the details once we left the city, sure. But we were at the apartment, where other than the citadel would we have left from?" 

Gladio nodded once, sharply, by means of agreement. 

It took Ignis a moment, but a thought dawned on him, scorching, seething with anger. "Please don't tell me they suspect Prompto."

Gladio's own temper rose, "I never said I thought they had a point--"

"He would never," Ignis shit back, voice low, sharp, nearly a hiss. 

In response, Gladio's volume grew louder, "I know that!" 

"Then why even entertain--"

"Iggy, I know it's a waste of time, but the investigators--"

"To hell with--"

A voice came clear through the door, a simple clearing of their throat. Ignis had mere moments to compose himself as the door swung open a moment later. Cor stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. He nodded once to each of them. Gladio returned it with a rigid motion, Ignis only glared. "Marshall," he began, still low, threatening, "I have faith that you don't honestly believe--"

"No, I don't think Prompto had anything to do with this," Cor said briskly. Ignis huffed, ready to pick a fight, but Cor continued, and it took a moment for Ignis to register the darkness in The Immortal's eyes, "which is why I'm concerned."

Ignis blinked, "what?" It was all he could think to say. He'd never felt so off kilter. 

Cor set down a photograph of the crime scene onto the table Ignis had been resting his head on only minutes ago. Gladio had apparently already seen it as his lips only drew into a tighter line. Ignis felt his eyes widen in disbelief. 

"Apparently, when Noctis cut into the one the people who attacked you, this came loose." It was stained with blood, but Ignis definitely recognized the patch, holes where it had been ripped-- presumably-- from his jacket. A fanged set of teeth, tongue stuck out mockingly. One of the many patches Prompto had on his jacket. 

"I--" Ignis began, mind reeling. This wasn't possible. And then his mind began working because of course that was impossible. Prompto would never. "I highly doubt it's a one of a kind," Ignis snapped, "and have they run tests yet on the stains? There's no--"

"I still must ask, Ignis. And you must answer truthfully." A whole laundry list of insults, comebacks, and general assery of retorts came to mind, but Ignis held his tongue, as usual. "Can you remember approximately how tall the person Noctis cut down was?" 

Ignis opened his mouth, but withheld. Because no. No he couldn't remember, not vividly, but... With how Noctis got around him... Yes, they had been roughly the same height but-- "I can't be sure," he said grudgingly. 

The Marshall nodded. 

Gladio took a step forward, "I take it Prompto's been contacted?"

Cor nodded again, "he's going through his first round of questioning as we speak." 

Gladio's whole face lit with rage, but he held his tone reasonably well, "and I take it we're not gonna be allowed to speak to him?"

Cor looked Gladio in the eye as he replied, "it wouldn't have done any of us any good." 

Ignis wanted to yell. To fight, to tear his way into the interrogation room, free Prompto, then tear his way to wherever Noct had been locked up and free him too. But he knew he couldn't. And with that, Ignis felt himself give way. He pulled out another chair and sat, removing his glasses and rubbing his eyes. He knew what Cor meant. 

It wouldn't have gotten the investigation anywhere because he knew Prompto wasn't guilty. It wouldn't have helped any of their mental states any. But dammit, he wanted to go to him. Assure Prompto that they knew he'd had no part in this. 

"How--" Ignis's voice was dry, hoarse. He took a steadying breath and tried again. "How did you know that was one of Prompto's patches specifically. I take it the connection wasn't presumed."

"There was DNA on the patch." Cor confirmed. Then after a moment, "that's why I couldn't convince the investigation to dismiss Mr. Argentum entirely." 

It took another unsteady breath for Ignis to realize he was shaking-- and that both Cor and Gladio were watching him wearily. Ignis rolled his eyes, "rest assured, I'll withhold my outburst for whoever it was who--" he faltered again, but they didn't need him to finish. Whoever had taken Noctis from them. 


End file.
